


Harry

by WaitTilMyFatherHearsAboutThis



Series: After the Battle [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Implied/Referenced Torture, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 22:28:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14342283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaitTilMyFatherHearsAboutThis/pseuds/WaitTilMyFatherHearsAboutThis
Summary: Harry Potter looked around the Great Hall and expected to see mistrust, disgust and sneers, maybe some tired resignation, at the revelation that not only was the 'Gryffindor Princess' in love with the 'Slytherin Prince' (rude snort), but that Queen of the Muggleborns Hermione Granger was in love with prejudiced Death Eater Draco Malfoy. But instead, everyone seemed to be in a state of pure shock. He couldn't blame them.





	Harry

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This fic includes mentions of torture and character death. If you are sensitive to that, please beware.

Harry Potter looked around the Great Hall and expected to see mistrust, disgust and sneers, maybe some tired resignation, at the revelation that not only was the 'Gryffindor Princess' in love with the 'Slytherin Prince' (rude snort), but that Queen of the Muggleborns Hermione Granger was in love with prejudiced Death Eater - admittedly, a particularly shit one as he refused to identify Harry at Malfoy Manor, even though it was obviously him, and then turned traitor completely at the end there - Draco Malfoy. And by the look of Malfoy's almost-embarassing-if-it-wasn't-so-adorable-but-also-creepy smile as he looks at Hermione with something akin to _awe_ , the feeling is more than mutual. But instead, everyone seemed to be in a state of pure shock. He couldn't blame them.

But that wasn't even the biggest surprise of the night (apart from sort-of dying of course, that was a pretty fucking **BIG** surprise). No. Turns out that at some point in their relationship (Harry seriously had to find out how the **FUCK** that had happened), Malfoy had bloody proposed! And was now doing it again! Seriously, how the _fuck_ did this happen? **WHEN** did this happen?!

Harry looked at Ron, who was almost purple with barely controlled rage. Poor bloke. He was convinced that he and Hermione would end up together in the end. Harry hadn't quite understood how he came to that conclusion, considering Hermione referred to the two of them as her brothers on several occasions. Ginny had actually cried with laughter when Ron told them that he and Hermione belonged together. Even Neville - kind, friendly, wouldn't-say-boo-to-a-goose (but was fucking **EPIC** with a sword) Neville - had quickly stifled a disbelieving snort when he heard Ron's theory. Hardly surprising. After all, Ron had taken Padma to the Yule Ball where he promptly stared at Hermione all night before screaming in her face for daring to have a male friend, then two years later, began snogging 'LavLav' every moment of every day to rub Hermione's face in it (she had looked more nauseated than jealous, just like everyone else). Not exactly 'I'm in love with my best friend' behaviour, really.

Well, Harry thought, Ron better not get in the way of Hermione's happiness this time, like he was trying to do with Krum - even though she really did make it clear they were just friends. Was that because she was secretly with Malfoy? - because Harry had no qualms with knocking him the fuck out if he did. He really didn't care if the guy she loved was the ferret (though he wasn't exactly chuffed). The girl he considers a sister in every way that matters has been miserable for as long as he can remember, and he'd sooner Avada himself than watch her put on that facade of happiness again that was exhausting to watch, let alone wear.

Harry looked back at Hermione and watched her smile at their childhood nemesis. Not the kind of brittle smile that made Harry want to scream, that he had unfortunately gotten used to lately. Not the kind of almost-happy smile that also held such overwhelming sadness that made Harry want to cry. A real, sincere, true Hermione Granger smile.

Thinking back, Harry didn't think he'd seen her really smile in.. two years.

_Well this Malfoy thing makes a bit more sense._

. . . . . . . . . . .

She was miserable and distracted and jumpy all of Sixth Year and he couldn't work out why..

_Because Malfoy was under pressure from Voldemort?_

. . . . . . . . . . .

She was the first to jump to Malfoy's defence when Harry suggested he'd become a Death Eater..

 _If they're getting re-engaged now, they must have at least been in a relationship during one of a hundred rants I had to Hermione about my suspicions about Malfoy. She_ must _have known the truth.. She was trying to protect him.._

. . . . . . . . . . .

She had looked at Harry with such rage, disgust, betrayal and _fear_ when he'd told her about the Sectumsempra curse. She had immediately run out of the room to see if Malfoy was alright. Harry had thought she was trying to ascertain the damage and keep him from being expelled..

Maybe not, then..

Thinking about it, she couldn't bear to look at him until the day Malfoy was released from the hospital wing and even then her eyes had been cold.. It was the closest Harry had ever come to truly losing Hermione's friendship and it had scared him immensely.

_Why hadn't I put two-and-two together back then? It was so obvious, thinking back.. She'd been on edge and distracted and terrified while Malfoy was in the hospital wing.._

. . . . . . . . . . .

She'd been _livid_ when Moody had turned Malfoy into a ferret. Never mind that the tosser had tried to hex him. She'd even helped him up and taken him to the hospital wing, shouting at Moody about human rights and child abuse and suing him.

Harry had just thought it was her house elf thing all over again.

_But it wasn't, was it? Had she cared for Malfoy, even back then? Had they been friends at the time? Or even already together?_

If they were, it explains why she had come storming into Gryffindor tower, screaming - actually _screaming_ \- at everyone who was laughing about it. Apparently Malfoy had been seriously hurt; three cracked ribs, a broken wrist and almost the entire left side of his body was bruised so badly that he needed to stay in the Hospital Wing all night and all of the next day to make sure there wasn't any as yet undetected internal bleeding..

That had shut everyone up. There was a difference between the odd jinx or hex in the corridors and actually _hurting_ someone.

When some Seventh Year had said that Malfoy deserved it, Hermione had punched him in the face - _actually punched him in the face!_ \- and said that she could Transfigure _him_ into a ferret and bounce him off the walls of the common room if he thought anyone deserved to be in so much pain, so humiliated.

_I should've realised.._

Also, when Malfoy had turned back into a human and Hermione had helped him up, he hadn't said a word about Mudbloods and germs and Gryffindorks or whatever tripe Harry had expected him to say. Harry didn't think about it at the time, but Malfoy had held onto her pretty tight.. Had actually shoved other Slytherins out of the way and stayed with 'Mione..

. . . . . . . . . . .

Harry was there when Umbridge made a derogatory remark about Tracey Davis's Muggleborn father, had witnessed Parkinson all but launch herself across the desk to attack the vicious toad. Malfoy, who the other Slytherins seemed to defer to when anything important happened, had held her back and shook his head, the picture of nonchalance, while Davis made a truly valiant effort pretending it didn't bother her and that she wasn't trembling with rage as Nott reassuringly squeezed her leg under the table.

But Harry had seen Malfoy look at Hermione. At the time, Harry had been suspicious. After all, Malfoy generally refused to acknowledge Hermione's existence. But he had _definitely_ looked at Mione when Umbridge made that crack about Davis, and his gaze was intense. Harry couldn't be sure about what he was thinking, because the Slytherins all loved Davis, halfblood or not, that much was obvious, so was he thinking about Hermione's blood status? Why was he thinking about her at all, when he usually avoided her like the plague? Harry had been confused.

Obviously he wasn't anymore. They must have been friends by that point, if not something more.

Then, when Umbridge set up that Inquisitorial Squad, she fully expected Malfoy to join, asking him in the middle of Defence if he'd lead the Squad. Only, he didn't join, he outright refused. In fact, he pointed out to Umbridge that having been a Slytherin herself, she should know that Snakes stick together, no matter what, and that when she insulted Davis, she insulted all of them, and none of them - Nott, Zabini, Bulstrode, Greengrass and Parkinson - would join her.

Harry - and every other Gryffindor, except Mione, though Harry now knew the reason for her complete lack of surprise in Malfoy's statement - had been shocked to say the least. After all, Slytherins - when they knew they were being watched - were cold, aloof, snarky, arrogant and prickly. At best. But more than that, they were ambitious, and being on Umbridge's good side was the best place to be at the time, ambition-wise.

 _Obviously Malfoy and the others didn't appreciate the slight on Davis, but Malfoy's look towards Mione.. If Umbridge was prejudiced against a Slytherin halfblood, she was_ definitely _prejudiced against a Gryffindor Muggleborn.._

 _So_ that _was why Malfoy suddenly acknowledged Mione's existence again! They were definitely friends, if not more, at that point! They must have been! And he didn't want to be working for someone who thought she was filth!_

. . . . . . . . . . .

She cried herself to sleep every night after Dumbledore's death. Just last night he'd watched tears continue to fall in her sleep.

But what if it wasn't Dumbledore, or the war, or -?

_It was Malfoy. She's been crying herself to sleep every night since Malfoy left to join the Death Eaters! ..The only night she didn't cry was -_

Malfoy Manor.

. . . . . . . . . . .

She'd vehemently defended Malfoy's actions in standing by and watching her be tortured -

_Fuck.. If Malfoy cares about her even half as much as I do, which I'm betting he does if he's marrying her.._

Hearing her scream was bad enough, but watching the whole thing? Harry Potter could honestly say that at that moment, he felt sick to his stomach on behalf of Draco Malfoy.

She'd been adamant that Malfoy had done everything he could to help her without giving himself away, without risking his life, her life and that of his mother's.

He didn't turn us in, she'd said. He knew who we were the minute we walked in and he still lied to his Aunt and his father and refused to identify us, she'd said. If he had tried to help, Bellatrix would've killed me to spite him and then killed him too for being a Mudblood lover, she'd said. He cast as many protection and healing spells as he possibly could, Ron! I could feel them! He couldn't do anything about the side effects, but he kept the pain away! He kept me sane!

Harry hadn't quite understood that last part. Why would he go out of his way, risk being branded a 'Mudblood lover', to quote Hermione, to help Hermione? Didn't he hate her?

Ron, on the other hand, had outright refused to accept it, and Hermione had told him to fuck off. Not 'get out.' Not 'leave me alone.' No. Harry remembered it like it was yesterday because it was so bloody un-Hermione-ish. She'd told him, "Oh go fuck yourself, Ron, and get the fuck out of my room! I was the one who was fucking tortured! I was the one who was fucking cut up! And I was the one in that room with Malfoy while you two were chatting up house elves! So unless you think it's a fucking picnic having Mudblood carved into your fucking arm and being Crucio'd six ways from Sunday, and anyone can fucking survive it with their sanity intact, _trust me_ when I tell you that Malfoy fucking HELPED ME!"

Ron had indeed 'fucked off' after that, and Harry had accepted Hermione's version of events without question.

Come to think of it, she'd sounded a lot like Malfoy when he was pissed off -

_Nope, not thinking about that. Too weird._

She'd looked so bloody _relieved_ later that night at Shell Cottage, and Harry didn't think it was because they'd escaped. It was something else.. Like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders..

That was the only night she hadn't cried herself to sleep..

_Of course.. She'd seen Malfoy. No matter how horrendous the circumstances. It was physical and irrefutable proof that he was still in one piece.._

. . . . . . . . . . .

Sometimes, in the middle of the night, when they were searching for Horcruxes, she'd be writing on a bit of old parchment, but whenever Harry or Ron asked to look, she'd insist it was nothing and put it away.

_Had they been communicating somehow?_

She refused to fall asleep at night without checking on it.

 _Why didn't I insist on seeing it? She was obviously up to_ something.

She'd stare at that parchment almost constantly when she wore the Horcrux..

Harry didn't want to imagine the scenarios that vile thing had come up with, filling Hermione's head with a thousand different ways Malfoy could die, or betray them, or be shacked up with some Death Eater, forgetting all about her. It had whispered things about Ginny and she was in a far safer environment and less precarious position than Malfoy..

_Oh, 'Mione.._

. . . . . . . . . . .

She'd screamed and begged and pleaded with him and Ron to save Malfoy from the Fiendfyre. She had all but thrown herself off the broom to get them to go back for him. Not that they'd have just let him _die_ , with or without Hermione fighting tooth and nail to get to him. She'd almost fallen into the fucking fire trying to grab Malfoy before Harry had hauled him up on the broom.

Harry hadn't thought about it when it happened, what with trying to stay alive and destroy a fucking Horcrux at the same time, but she was completely hysterical..

. . . . . . . . . . .

She was devastated when Snape died. She'd tried to stop the bleeding any way she could, crying her eyes out and holding his hand.

If she knew about Malfoy's mission to kill Dumbledore, then she knew the Headmaster knew all about it, knew that Dumbledore had had Snape help Malfoy in any way he could, knew what was going to happen in the Tower, knew that Snape was loyal..

Dumbledore and Snape must have known about their relationship, if they were looking out for Malfoy, keeping an eye on him. If they were the only two people in the world who knew the truth about her and Malfoy, who knew how much she loved him, was helping him, then it wouldn't be unreasonable for Hermione to have grown incredibly close to Dumbledore and Snape Sixth Year..

. . . . . . . . . . .

And before the war..

_Merlin. I've been so bloody oblivious.._

...

He'd sometimes see her holding back a smile when Malfoy was laughing and mucking about with Nott and Zabini.. He had thought it odd but never suspected..

...

Occasionally, she'd all of a sudden blush at dinner and Harry couldn't figure out what she was looking at that made her duck her head and bite her lip..

...

The day after Cormac McLaggen tried to feel Hermione up at Slughorn's Christmas party, he had ended up in the hospital wing with a broken wrist and four dislocated fingers. Apparently, someone had jumped him from behind. He hadn't seen who it was.

After Harry had shoved McLaggen away from her, Hermione had told him, her voice angry but her hands shaking, that Cormac had cornered her and she had no idea what had given him the impression that she liked him because she'd barely spoken to him before. Harry had been livid.

Malfoy had tried to crash the party, though that was obviously a lie. But he had definitely been nearby that night.. If Hermione had told him about McLaggen when the party finished, with her hands still shaking..

_Well, Malfoy does have a reputation for looking out for those he cares about.._

...

Sometimes, late at night, she'd stare into the fire in the Gryffindor common room and smile softly to herself, playing with that sapphire necklace she always wore, lost in her own thoughts..

_Had she been thinking of Malfoy?_

_Had it been Malfoy who gave her that necklace, not her parents?_

...

She'd almost bolt out of the room to go to the library at least five times a week. Sometimes she'd be back within a few hours and sometimes she'd be gone almost the entire day..

_Library, my arse._

...

Malfoy had warned them about getting Hermione further into the forest at the World Cup..

Harry remembered looking back at Malfoy after Hermione dragged him and Ron away and into the trees. Malfoy had looked relieved. Harry hadn't thought about after that, what with being accused of casting _Morsmordre_ and discussing the First War later that night.

...

Malfoy was renowned for changing his mind about blood prejudice at the beginning of Fourth Year. Had that been Hermione's influence?

Crabbe had called Hermione a Mudblood in Fifth Year and Goyle had laughed. Malfoy had completely lost his shit. Harry remembered it, clear as day.

Malfoy had punched Crabbe in the face, knocking him on his arse, and hexed both him and Goyle with painful boils. Then he told them, shaking with rage, "Don't you _ever_ call her that! Don't you _ever_ say that word in front of me! If you still believe in that blood purity _bullshit_ then that's your business, but I told you once to _never_ bring that shit up in front of me and I will not fucking tell you again!"

Harry had thought Malfoy's stance on blood purity had been an act, a popularity stunt - Gods know all the girls in school wanted him, so it definitely worked. Not that he ever looked twice at any of them, as far as Harry knew. Harry had been unfortunate enough once to overhear a conversation between Lavender, Parvati and Romilda to attest to Malfoy's 'shaggable-ness' - but that incident with Crabbe and Goyle had put doubt in his mind. Harry, in his hatred, had pushed that doubt aside and focused on the fact that Malfoy's entire family - the ones that weren't disowned - were Death Eaters.

He felt like a fool now, watching the man whisper sweet nothings in his Muggleborn best friend's ear..

The Slytherins - Nott, Zabini, Parkinson, Davis, Greengrass and Bulstrode - had had plenty to say about he and Ron - and to a lesser extent, Hermione - but it was never about blood. It was mostly about Gryffindorks and Quidditch and sex appeal and that crap. Never blood.

Well, Davis was a halfblood and she was clearly cared for by the pureblood scions of Slytherin House, so Harry had known they weren't as prejudiced as he initially thought. He couldn't deny that, with Davis being a walking talking example. But Hermione was a Muggleborn, and still they never said a word to her about blood. It was usually about bookworms and teacher's pets and frizzy hair. Never, not once, about blood. Not since Third Year, anyway.

Everyone knew that Malfoy was the 'Slytherin prince' and what he said, went. So Mudblood was off the table, insult wise. But even when Malfoy wasn't around, they never, ever, called his friends either a Mudblood or a blood traitor.

Shit. Harry had _seriously_ misjudged. They were arseholes a lot of the time, yeah, but he had been too blinded by hatred for Malfoy and their House to realise that they really _didn't_ believe in blood superiority anymore. They honestly didn't. And he hadn't believed them.

_Shit.. I'm the prejudiced one.. Not the Slytherins, the Gryffindors.. Not prejudiced about blood, but prejudiced about Snakes.._

FUCK. He really _was_ prejudiced. Nott and Zabini had literally just fought by his side. They'd stepped up when the Order said anyone over the age of seventeen could fight. Gods.. Even Parkinson - _Parkinson!_ \- had fought. And Greengrass too.. Fucking hell, even the little Greengrass had been fighting! Harry had heard Daphne screaming at her sister to run and hide..

 _Fuckity, fuck, fuck, fuck.. I've been so fucking_ blind! _They really did hate blood prejudice. Malfoy really_ had _changed all their minds. They honest to Gods hate Death Eaters and what they stand for as much as I do.. Oh, Fuck. Nott's own father is a fucking Death Eater and he fought for our side, anyway! Not to mention Malfoy. He'd switched sides. Openly. Death Eaters were lining up to murder him when they realised he'd defected and he'd fought them like a fucking beast.._

_Fucking hell.. I'm an arsehole.._

...

Since Third Year, after Hermione's slap, Malfoy's goaded and pissed off he and Ron but never Hermione. He never said a bad word to her. And Hermione never said a word to him. Never defended him, but never once said anything to or about him, either.

Harry had thought it was just because Malfoy didn't want to get slapped again and Hermione didn't want to get involved when Malfoy was happily ignoring her existence.

_But what if it wasn't? What if, somehow, they'd become friends after that? Is that when it all started? Third Year?_

. . . . . . . . . . .

With the impact of the Hogwarts Express, Harry was assaulted by another memory. One from the night Dumbledore was murdered. He remembered with perfect clarity every moment from that night..

Malfoy had thrown himself through the door of the Astronomy Tower, his wand pointed at Dumbledore but his gaze over his shoulder at the exit. Turning around to face the Headmaster and running both hands repeatedly over his face, his entire body was tensed so tightly, Harry had thought he might snap.

Malfoy's desperate and hurried half-whisper, half-shout to Dumbledore that convinced Harry that there was no way that whatever shit Malfoy had gotten himself in to, had been in any way his idea.

"You have to keep her safe! She'll be safe, right? You'll keep her safe, right?!"

Malfoy hadn't even waited for a response. Instead, he'd started pacing back and forth like a caged animal, getting closer and closer to Dumbledore, the wand in his hand completely forgotten. He'd grabbed fistfuls of his hair and pulled so hard Harry was sure he was going to rip it out by the roots, before he added, his voice breaking, his eyes manic, and his body almost _vibrating_ with the urge to fucking **RUN** ,

"I can't just leave her! I can't do this! I can't **NOT** do this! He'll fucking murder my fucking mother if I don't fucking **DO** this but I can't just fucking leave her! If I do this, they'll fucking take over! You know they will! He'll be even more powerful! You know he will! She'll be in even more danger than she already is! I can't! I can't! _I can't!_ I have to but I fucking _can't!_ You need to promise me! Fucking promise me right fucking now that the Order will keep her safe! That she'll be fucking safe and **NO ONE** will touch her! _Promise me!_ **PROMISE ME!"**

Harry had watched his enemy hyperventilate and his eyes, wide and half-crazed, flicker between the door and the Headmaster every few seconds. In that moment, Harry knew for a fact that Draco Malfoy had joined the Death Eaters. And that he'd just done a very bad thing. And that he was about to do something even worse. And all Harry had felt was sympathy for the man who was a second away from losing his fucking mind, simultaneously begging and demanding Dumbledore keep whoever this girl was safe, and Harry knew that if Malfoy could have been  _anywhere_ else, he would have been.

Dumbledore had grabbed Malfoy by the shoulders and shaken him slightly, forcing the man to look at him.

"You have my word, Draco, that she will be as safe as it is possible to be during a war. You are not the only one who would sooner die than see her come to harm. You know this. She will be _safe_ , Draco. Now _breathe,"_ Dumbledore replied, his voice reassuring but firm. A warning.

So Malfoy had taken deep breaths and loosened the death grip on his hair. With another quick glance at the door at the sound of voices coming up the stairs, Malfoy had nodded to the Headmaster and quickly disarmed him before they both waited in companionable silence for the Death Eaters to come.

In the months that followed, in quiet moments when he wasn't thinking of Horcruxes or Ginny or his friends' mental health, Harry had repeatedly gone over that moment in his head and tried to figure out who Malfoy would've been so terrified of losing that he'd asked the man he was supposed to murder to protect her. He had begged a man he'd casually despised for years to keep this unknown girl safe. Malfoy had freely admitted that he didn't want to do what he was about to do, but Voldemort had threatened to kill his mother. Everyone knew that Malfoy would sooner rip his own throat out than have any harm come to her. He was _ferociously_ loyal to those he loved.

In Sixth Year, he had beaten the _shit_ out of a Ravenclaw Seventh Year that had shoved Theo Nott into a wall and then punched Blaise Zabini in the face for seducing his girlfriend. Broke his nose, there was blood everywhere. Malfoy had lost his fucking mind. He'd thrown his wand and bag in Nott' and Zabini's general direction and launched himself at the Ravenclaw, knocking him to the ground and punching him over and over and over. He didn't even say anything while he hit him. Didn't say a word after the bloke passed out, either. He'd just stood up, silently taken his stuff from Nott, asked him if he was alright, asked Zabini if he was alright, then thrown his arm around Zabini's shoulders and calmly and silently walked his friend to the hospital wing. It was fucking terrifying, actually. The one and only time Harry had ever been genuinely wary of Malfoy. Even the other Slytherins and the prefects that had been in the courtyard at the time, hadn't so much as fucking _breathed.._

Even though Malfoy's actions that night had led to a man's death, a huge blow to the Order and to Harry himself, Harry couldn't hate the Malfoy he'd seen in the Tower that night.

Now, Harry knew. It was Hermione. Malfoy had driven himself to the point of fucking insanity over his worry that Hermione wouldn't be safe. He'd obviously told Dumbledore of his plan to murder him, to let the Death Eaters in, because the both of them seemed to know what was coming and had some sort of plan. Of course, now he knew the truth, but even at the time he had known that Dumbledore knew what Malfoy was about to do. Malfoy had basically bloody defected to the Order, but he couldn't outright join them because of the threat to his mother. He had had to choose between his mother's life and being with Hermione.. Harry honestly didn't want to think about what that decision had cost him. And then Bellatrix.. To have gone to all that trouble to keep both women in his life as safe as he could, only to have to watch as one of them was fucking tortured in front of him.. _Fuck._ Harry couldn't even begin to comprehend the fucking _agony_ he must have been in, watching that, and knowing that if he tried to stop it -

. . . . . . . . . . .

Harry pulled himself out of his thoughts and looked back at his friend. Hermione had buried her face in Malfoy's shirt and he had buried his in her neck as they both visibly shook with tears and laughter. They both still held the other in an iron grip and Harry was certain that they'd both rather resurrect Voldemort than let go any time soon.

Harry Potter listened to his best friend's delighted, _honest_ laugh for the first time in two years and came to the decision that he didn't ever want to go back to a time when she didn't laugh.

He took three slow steps towards the happy couple and they turned to face him. Harry noticed the way Malfoy subtly pulled Hermione closer and slightly behind him as he approached and couldn't help but smile slightly at the absurdity that _Malfoy_ was protecting _Hermione_ from _him._

As he stopped in front of them, Hermione gave him a nervous smile and seemed to be lost for words. But Harry only glanced at her for a moment before he turned his attention to the man at her side. Malfoy gave him a haughty, arrogant look and stood a little straighter, but Harry wasn't fooled. They had known each other a long time now, after all. The man's eyes were part relieved, part nervous and mostly terrified. Probably because, if Harry hadn't seen him that night in the Astronomy Tower, and just taken the time to piece together Hermione's odd behaviour over the years, Harry would've immediately checked Hermione for the Imperius curse and punched the bloody ferret in the face. Harry had the power to make their relationship as difficult as possible, to give Hermione an ultimatum or berate her for her choice of partner. Malfoy knew that.

As it was, Harry had no intention of ever doing that. Instead, he held Malfoy's gaze for a long moment before holding his hand out to the man and said, the memory of their first encounter running through his mind,

"The name's Potter. Harry Potter. I understand some wizarding families are better than others."

Malfoy's arrogant mask fell away completely as he stared at Harry's outstretched hand with a look of complete disbelief. The Great Hall was absolutely silent except for Ron's furious huffs, the occasional sniff, and the odd moan and groan from injuries as everyone waited to see what Malfoy was going to do. After what seemed like an impossibly long time, but was probably only three seconds, Malfoy grasped Harry's hand and said, in a bone-tired voice, but a voice more warm and friendly than Harry had thought the man capable of directing at him,

"True. But your best friend seems rather fond of me despite mine. Draco Malfoy," and with that, shook his hand.

Then Harry and Malfoy found themselves a bit too close for comfort as Hermione made a noise that was part-sob, part-laugh, part-shriek, and wrapped her arms around their necks and pulled them both into a three-way hug. She kissed first Malfoy, then Harry, on the cheek, while crying and laughing in equal measure and holding them both to her so tightly, they could barely turn their heads.

Harry, who had his chin on her shoulder and was awkwardly patting her shoulder blade, looked into Malfoy's eyes, his chin was on Hermione's other shoulder and he was rubbing her back comfortingly and nuzzling her hair. It was one of those looks that only two people who have known each other for a long time but until very recently, hated each other with a passion, can really understand. A look somewhere between 'this is awkward', 'we should probably try to get along for her sake', _'you're touching me!'_ , 'will she please, for the love of Merlin, let go so I can get away from you?!', mutual respect, forgiveness, and a fresh start.

. . . . . . . . . . .


End file.
